


Scrub Until I Bleed

by lsularak



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Blood, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, MILD - Freeform, Probably not., but this time its ACCIDENTAL, death of someone, i dont know how to tag this, i guess, kinda comfort???, kinda trauma, not an important dude, uhhh, will i stop writing matt killing ppl?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsularak/pseuds/lsularak
Summary: Matt didn’t want to believe this happened. The Thing. The Thing that did not really happen. Because Matt wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Wouldn’t even let it happen to anyone else. There was no way hedidthat.Matt vs killing people; it does not go in his favor.





	Scrub Until I Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> _“I scrub and I scrub until my body bleeds,_  
>  convince myself I am coming clean,  
>  forget and ignore who I used to be,  
>  that kid is never coming back” 
> 
> me: FINISH YOUR FR E A K I NG OTHER WORKS  
> also me: literally. how about (and hear me out); no.
> 
> so i dont actually know how i feel abt this one??? but im not abt to leave it stuck in my documents unpublished for the rest of my life, so like, yea  
> it kinda falls apart and dies at the end but to be fair ive been trying to think of something to finish this thing off for like. at least a week
> 
> anYway; as usual, i appreciate constructive criticism!!

Matt frantically scrubbed at his hands, wishing for them to just fall off at this point. There was. So much blood. It. Was everywhere. It wouldn’t scrub _off_ and it was _everywhere_ and the _smell_ was so strong it was going to make him _vomit_ but he _couldn’t_ because then Foggy would _know_. Foggy. Foggy who was staking out Matt’s couch because he was worried about Matt not making it home. But it was. Was not Matt that wasn’t going to make it home tonight. It was the man he killed. The. The man. The man who probably had a _family_ , a family that was _worried_ and _scared_ for him and waiting for him to come back and he. Wasn’t going to think about that because thinking about it meant it _happened_. And. Matt didn’t want to believe this happened. The Thing. The Thing that did not really happen. Because Matt wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Wouldn’t even let it happen to anyone else. There was no way he _did_ that.

Except that he did. He. He had done it and the blood wasn’t coming _off_. It couldn’t be. Not with how _strong_ it still was, attacking Matt’s nostrils like they had done something to _deserve_ that. Which. Okay. Maybe this was a warranted thing. But it was still too _much_. Too. Too much. Far, far, _far_ too much. Matt may. May have been crying because of that. Maybe. Sort of. Yes, ok, those were tears he could feel on his cheeks, dragging through the blood on them and leaving clean streaks. That was salt in the air he could taste, salt that tasted like the same in tears, but he couldn’t be sure, because his senses had to be _lying_ because there was _no way_ there was still this much blood on his. His. His everything. There was no way. He shouldn’t have gotten blood through the suit. There. There wasn’t any _way_ for that. The blood didn’t. Couldn’t. It. Couldn’t get through the suit. How did it? Was there even really blood? 

There was. There _was_. There had to be. The density screamed that it was blood and not the water from the shower. Not just. Just water. Blood. Blood that _didn’t stop flowing_. It was still flowing how was it still _flowing_ there wasn’t a _source_ anymore it had to be coming from somewhere though he just had to fucking _find it_ and–

“Matt? Buddy? Y’home?” Foggy’s tired voice echoed, making Matt’s breathing stop dead. He. He couldn’t breathe. If Foggy saw. If. If Foggy _knew_ he would– 

He. He would do. Something. Leave. He would _leave_ , screamed Matt’s brain, the same part holding the breath in his chest even though it hurt, it _burned_ , begging to be released. He couldn’t let it out, though, could never let it out so long as Foggy was awake; and he was more than awake now. He. He got _up_. He was actively _looking_ for Matt. Matt finally allowed a breath out, harsh and quick and praying to go unnoticed as he started his frantic scrubbing again; but on more than his hands, now. He had done a full body scrub already, but it wasn’t enough because the blood was still everywhere and it wasn’t going _away_ –

“Matt? You in the shower? You should answer when I call yo- _Jesus Christ, Matt!_ ” Foggy practically screamed. Oh. Oh no. He. He saw. He _saw_. Matt’s head snapped up, an annoying reflex he couldn’t seem to shake, and his senses threw themselves, collectively, out the window. Matt was. Was stunned? For lack of better terms. Stunned; terrified and speechless. His mouth opened and closed over and over in the hopes that he could just _explain_ , but Foggy didn’t need one. 

_Forget privacy, Foggy Nelson is here and worried_ , Matt’s idiot brain supplied, rather than a reasonable explanation for why there was so much blood. 

“Fog. Fog. Foggy. Foggy. Fogs. Foggy there’s. There’s. So. So much. So much. _Blood_ , Foggy. Too much of it. I can’t. Where is. Is it _coming_ from?” Matt managed, halting and lacking real substance. Foggy seemed to understand his point, though, and had an answer for his question. “Matt. _Matt_. It’s coming from _you_. You’re bleeding. Profusely, actually. What did you _do_?” Foggy asked as he dragged Matt out of the shower, ignoring any typical human decency in favor of finding out what the _fuck_ happened.

Matt. Matt did not have an answer. He had a question, yes, and it was the same one Foggy kept asking, but he had no _answer_. No combination of words to reply to _“What happened, Matt? What did you do?”_ There was just. Nothing. No good reply, no sane one, and why didn’t Foggy _get that_.

Whatever, at least the never-ending blood had a _source_ now, it wasn’t just going to be some urban legend that no one could figure out. But at the same time, it should have _stayed_ an urban legend, it seemed like it was giving Foggy a heart attack, but it wasn’t because Matt was pretty sure his heart was still beating because what else could that sound _be_ , and what _would_ it be if it _wasn’t_ Foggy’s heart? He didn’t know, nor did he care to find out.

Foggy was frantically pushing towels onto Matt’s hands, but he had stopped asking what happened, which was nice. Now he was mostly trying to get reassurances through to Matt. _“It’s gonna be fine, Matt, we’re all good, Matty; don’t worry about it,”_ but Matt didn’t really hear it. The reassurances were more like white noise, just buzzing around in the background of Matt’s mind. Foggy seemed to need it, though, needed to be doing something more, so Matt didn’t say anything about it; doubted he could even if he wanted to, the most he could say was _“Foggy”_ , so it was all he said. Repeatedly. It probably wasn’t helping.

Foggy had gotten Matt seated on his closed toilet, a towel thrown over Matt’s lower half for the sake of decency; and was searching quickly for medical supplies, but how do you actually _fix_ this? There can’t be a way, there’s… too much. Too much damage. Now that Matt knew where the blood was coming from, he could sense it a little better and it. It was not pretty. His hands were… they sure were hands, he supposed. They were bleeding and missing patches of skin and it was an overall _nightmare_ , even without seeing it, so it made sense why Foggy got so freaked out.

By the time he managed that thought, Foggy had found what he thought he needed, which seemed to just be some gauze pads and medical tape. Well, technically the wounds were clean, since he was in the shower, so it made sense to just get on with wrapping them. Probably. Kind of. Whatever, it was better than nothing. 

Foggy gently applied the gauze pads, but not so gently as to render them ineffective, and secured them with the tape, still going on a mile a minute about something or other that Matt wasn’t able to keep a grip on. It didn’t matter. Foggy probably wasn’t expecting an answer. Which was nice.

Considerate.

Unlike Matt when he beat that man to death because he couldn’t rein it _in_ – no. No. Not thinking about that, no, Foggy will know because he always knows what Matt’s thinking so even having that thought cross his mind is dangerous. He can’t think about that. Not yet. Not until Foggy leaves which. He. He doesn’t seem to be doing that. He isn’t leaving. In fact, he seemed to be preparing to _stay_ , which he can’t _do_ because how is Matt going to not think about that for a whole _night_?

“Foggy. Foggy, you can go. I’ll. Be fine. Go home, it’s okay.” Matt tried, but to no avail, because Foggy immediately shut him down. “No, Matt, I can’t go, because you can’t even get a whole sentence out, and you’re all bloody. I’m staying.” And that. That sounded final. Matt didn’t get a say in this anymore, apparently. Which is why Foggy basically took over making Matt work like a human being. Getting him up and out of the bathroom, getting him dressed, and getting him tucked away into his ludicrously soft silk sheets. 

It went by in seconds, it felt like to Matt, but it surely was longer. It had to be, but Matt couldn’t be sure, because his senses were liars today, clearly, because there was no way that Foggy had actually just taken a seat on Matt’s bed against the headboard, seeming to get comfortable; there was no way that Foggy would still stay after seeing what Matt had _done_ – except. Except Foggy didn’t _know_. He didn’t know and Matt couldn’t get the words _out_ but he had to _tell_ him because Foggy had to know so he could get away from Matt as quickly as possible and call the _police_ – 

“No, Matt, stop that. Stop the face. The _Oh my God I fucked up and now I’m terrified_ face. You know the one. Stop it.” Foggy said sternly, interrupting Matt’s train wreck of thought. “But. Foggy. Foggy I _kil_ –”

“Nope! None of that, Matt, stop talking. You didn’t _mean_ to.” And. And of _course_ Foggy knew already. He could read Matt like an open book, always could, and even knowing that he was still _staying_ , why was he staying? He wasn’t even _afraid_ ; his heart was beating steady and clear and why was he so _calm_? Matt wasn’t even that calm, he could feel his own heart pounding against his ribcage.

“Matt. Turn your freaky senses over here to me for a minute,” and Matt did. He turned every sense in his body to Foggy, still wondering why.

“We all knew this would happen one day. But you didn’t mean to. You didn’t _want_ to kill anyone. I’m not condoning murder, Matt, don’t make that face, but you didn’t _mean_ to, you need to calm down.” But how was Matt supposed to be calm he just _killed someone_ and – wait. Wait. Foggy was. Was _okay_ with this. He didn’t _condone_ it, but he knew Matt didn’t mean to and that was. That was more than Matt thought he would get. 

“Foggy–”

“I know, Matt. Go to sleep”

It was more than enough.


End file.
